


PTA

by PerpetualSpinster



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Quarantine, teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetualSpinster/pseuds/PerpetualSpinster
Summary: Teaching is hard.  Teaching and dealing with parents is even more of a menacing situation. And when the parent is hot?  No way could things go smoothly and stay completely professional, but you are determined to keep it that way.  However loneliness in the quarantine is threatening your morals to keep from crossing lines.
Relationships: Trevante Rhodes/Reader
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

You gather up the stray napkins cups and plates littered on the classroom desks left behind from today’s Valentines Day party. The kids got about a week’s worth of sugar in their system today with all of the cupcakes, cookies and candies supplied as a treat, so let the parents deal with that. You load up the big black trash bag and tie it off before heading for the whiteboard to wipe off the leftover markings from the lesson you taught earlier today. Since it was Valentines, it seemed like a nice idea to discuss a couple of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses, teaching their names and meanings as well as providing activities where the students built their own gods and demonstrated their invented meanings. All went well until the great pencil stealing debate came to fruition. 

Finishing up the whiteboard cleaning, you hear your student’s voice behind you.

“Good Afternoon, miss.” 

You see seven year old Nemour standing there with his hands in his pockets. 

You look at him positively. “I’m glad you made it back. Is your father with you?”

Just as you ask, in walks a man suavely rubbing the top of his child’s head. 

“This your class, little man?” His voice makes an odd tickling in the back corner of your scalp. A man has entered the chat. He looks up at you absentmindedly for less than a second before minutely forming into a warm expression.

“You must be Mr. Rhodes, right?” You put on your best customer service voice before putting out your hand to shake. 

He leads his son by the shoulder gently with one hand and reaches for yours to shake with the other. 

“Last I knew. Nice to finally meet you. My son has so many nice things to say about you and what he learns when he comes home.”

You sputter, a little speechless from the compliment. His grip still cradles your hand in his: palm hot but not sweaty and soft despite the obvious work he does to achieve that body. His biceps can’t hide anywhere from his heather grey tshirt, in a permanent flex. 

“I am really happy to have your son in my class actually. He is beyond bright and helpful even, but let’s sit down before discussing this further.”

“After you.” He offers as you finally pull your hand from his, walking over with a subtle switch to your desk with two chairs sat beside it. Everyone takes a seat before you begin again.

“So I do want to start off by thanking you for coming in, on Valentines at that. I don’t take for granted that this is out of the way so I appreciate you sharing the time.”

He shrugs. “I don’t have no plans. I wish I was here though, looks like you all shut it down.”

The room was heavily decorated with hearts and streamers of pink and red colors, and little Cupids adorned each child’s desk.

You smile nervously. “It’s a fun holiday to celebrate so I manage what I can to show that.”

Nemour adds, “We learned about Eros and Arrodit today!”

Mr. Rhodes looks at his son with wide eyed wonder. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Nemour shifts in his seat excitedly. “Um um Eros and Apostrophe are love gods! They like love and give it to people!”

“You mean Aphrodite, but awesome Nemour, that’s right!” You encourage your student.

Trevante smiles brightly at his child offering a high five. “That’s what I like to hear, my boy learning.”

You admire the father son bond in front of you so much, you can tell you’re absolutely melting into your chair. You could watch them all day but there is still business to take care of.

“But I do want to address what occurred in class today just so that it doesn’t become a habit or bigger than it already is. Nemour had been accused of taking someone’s pencil today.”

Mr. Rhodes stares at you in a way that makes you clear your throat to fill the silence. He doesn’t look upset, if anything he looks amused by this topic, eyes smiling with a little tuck of his lips.

“And…” He goes on.

“…and it was a pencil we reward students with perfect attendance. It’s pretty specific and the student requested it back but by the time the party started and the day was done the pencil isn’t accounted for.”

Trevante wiggles his legs back and forth with an arm over the back of his son’s chair. “Haven’t y’all got a box of these perfect attendance pencils to replace the lost one?”

You dance around the answer. “The point is that it was taken in the first place. We keep pencils in a cup at the front of the class-”

“Mixed in with everybody else’s?”

“Yes and-”

“So people can just take any pencil…” He draws out the statement as a question.

You didn’t expect an argument. “W-well that is the point. So a student can’t say they forgot their pencil or don’t have one, they can get one from the cup. We set them together to sharpen them towards the end of the day.”

“And you think keeping a nice pencil along with the basic ones is the best thing around some bright eyed seven years old?” He asks, stroking his chin for emphasis. “Sounds like some Reagan level trapping. Son, do you know who Reagan is?”

“No.” He says.

“Well, back in the 80s-”

You start to feel hot under the collar by his defiance and possible straying into the crack epidemic. “Nemour, do you mind going to sharpen the cup of pencils while we finish up talking?” 

“Cool!” Nemour cheers as he walks across to the cup and takes one pencil to begin sharpening. 

“Mr. Rhodes-”

He holds up his palm, bringing it to his heart. “Please, call me Trevante.”

“Trevante. I wanted to make sure you understood that my point is Nemour took something that wasn’t his.”

The pencil sharpener drowns out your voice a little, making Trevante lean closer to you. 

“It is just a pencil.”

You raise your voice a little more. “But it was a special pencil. He could’ve taken any other pencil but he took the one that is particular to one student.”

Trevante, smiles again. You don’t understand why but it makes you calm down for a second.

“How long have you been teaching?”

“About two years now.” You say.

Trevante chuckles, clapping his hands together. “That explains it!”

“I’m sorry?” You ask in confusion.

“Being so rule-minded. You this hung up over my son taking a public pencil! The kid should’ve kept the pencil with them!”

“Rules ensure the world isn’t a crap crowd, first of all. Second, he isn’t getting into trouble over it! I just want to reiterate that it’s not right to take what’s not yours.”

Trevante shakes his head in disbelief but isn’t tired of the conversation. “We gettin a little loud Teach, so let’s use inside voices. These kids should learn responsibility for their belongings instead of catering to every possible need, ma’am. It could take some stress off them shoulders for you.”

You subconsciously adjust the neck of your sweater, flustered over not getting your point across. “Don’t police my volume, Mr. Rhodes, its the damn sharpener. Well then let me apologize for taking your time.”

“My bad. Like I said, I had no plans and this was the best time waster I have had in a while. That is a nice sweater by the way.”

You freeze up at the compliment, rewinding that his eyes followed your movement from earlier. “Thank you. But next time I’ll just email you, how’s that.”

Trevante smiles genuinely. “Oh but real life is much more fun, ain’t it? I see what you did there though. Won’t be a next time, Teach. I promise. Right Nemour!”

Nemour stops sharpening. “Huh Daddy?”

“Don’t take any pencils that ain’t Ticonderoga or #2, K?”

“Yes, sir.” He says meekly before continuing his sharpening duty.”

Your phone goes off with a text. “Oh, um. Well I’ll call this a done meeting right? Do you have any questions?”

Trevante stares up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “You got plans this evening? A happy hour perhaps to de-stress?”

You clutch your phone. “Kind of. I have a date actually.”

“Ohh, so thats why you aint got a ring…and you wearing that sweater?”

“What is wrong with this sweater?? I thought you liked it!”

He shrugs, looking you over like a runway model coach. “It’s good for the cute teacher look, but I don’t know about a hot date.”

“Well if I didn’t have this meeting I would have time to change.”

He wags a finger at you. “Uh uh, don’t blame me. This coulda been an email, remember?”

You start to stand. “Yeah, yeah. Nemour, that’s good enough, thanks!” 

Nemour blows the shavings off his last pencil, returning it to it’s cup and running up to his dad.

“I’ll see you Monday miss!”

“Sure will! And Mr. Rhodes?”

“Trevante…”

“Trevante…I hope you have a good Valentine’s Day.”

Trevante holds his hand out again for a shake. “You do the same.” 

Your hand lands in his, giving him a firm squeeze, recording the amount of pressure given back from his.

“And if there is a next time, feel free to call me. Usually if people don’t get it the first time, I can convince them the second turn of it. You want me to take this trash out for you?”

“Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.” You say humbly.

He swings the bag over his broad shoulder, giving you that 100 watt grin one more time. “Good thing you didn’t ask. See you later.”

You sit back at your desk, breathing deeply to calm yourself. As much as parent conferences tested your nerves, his tested yours in a way you wanted to get right the next time.


	2. Chapter 2

Looking at your desk, you wonder how it’s gotten even more junky since working from home. A rainbow of notebooks and sticky pads scatter its surface with reminders and past lesson plans that beg for organization. You pick them up in clusters, doing a vague clean up as you check the clock on your computer to see you have ten minutes until showtime. Your kids will be logging in for their Zoom classroom to begin. 

You’re starting a new chapter on the Civil War today and although you knew it like the back of your hand, you freaked out at the moment, not able to find your presentation in any of the appropriate desktop folders. Unfortunately your virtual desktop was every bit as messy as your physical one. Clicking through the dated lesson plans, you finally find what you are looking for, opening it to prepare for sharing as your breakfast sandwich dings in the microwave. You meander through the obstacle course of your living room to grab your meal to go, almost burning your hand from its fresh heat as you sit back down, just in time to start off the lesson.

“Good Morning class! Happy Monday!”

“Good Morning!” They all say in scattered succession, your greeting back. 

You dig right into the lesson at hand with dates, names, places, and all that is in between. The kids were assigned a chapter before the weekend to prepare for discussion and luckily most of them seemed to have at least skimmed the topic beforehand.

“Ok guys, now we have a few more minutes before I have to assign this week’s project, so does anyone have any questions?”

One young man, Nemour raised his hand. “Yes, do you think, um, like could this happen again, do you think?”

You couldn’t hold back the gag on your face from the insightful question. “That’s a good question. And I know it really fits with some things that are talked about in politics today. I won’t say that it never is going to happen, but I also will not scare you into thinking that it will. Civil Wars are happening today in countries all over so it is not a subject that is new or forgotten. But use the events that lead up to it and think about what we do that could avoid the conflict or what are tells that signify that war is imminent. Thank you for that question Nemour because it segues us into this week’s project…”

Displeasure washed across several of your students’ faces but you have been blind to that behavior for years now so you began the rundown: three page essay on any aspect of the Civil War they may choose. 

“You may email me and we can discuss your idea and if it is a topic that can fill three pages. I want a citation page, credible sources. See me if you need a review on what a credible source is. I will see you again tomorrow guys. Be safe!” 

The blips of each person signing off is your background noise as you put aside your notes once more, dropping your pen in the process. 

You pick it up and hear something in the background of Nemour’s video. 

“Nemour?” You call out the student’s name but they must’ve forgotten to sign off. You begin to hang up yourself, when someone comes into frame.

“Nemour, I told you to clean up your room before school started so I could get this laundry done, damn!” 

You recognize the shirtless man strutting with a laundry basket under his arm as Trevante Rhodes, Nemour’s dad. You had a run in with him before that left you more than flustered but you stuck to your morals to ensure nothing came of it. Luckily, Nemour’s been doing well and no one has messed with his things, so any teacher-parent meetings are only the ones required by the school. 

“Ahh ah ahh ah ah AHHHHH! Caught up in the rapture of love…” He sang out loud, setting the basket on a table to free his shoulders up for some bopping. 

You can’t look away and didn’t dare end the session as the show was just getting started. Trevante rolls his shoulders, pumping his fists victoriously in rhythm with the song. You take a bite of your breakfast sandwich covertly appreciating the show.

“I love you here by me/ You let me love fly free…”

He spins around quickly on his toes ending on a pose before the next verse. His body is an artist’s dream with each flex he made. You could tell before that he is a fit man but nothing beats seeing the evidence unadulterated. His thick torso kept steady by his deep abs, kiny hair peppered across his chest for flavor. And those arms, what can be said about these family style, thick cuts-

“Ms (Y/N)?” You snap out of your inner study and forget you are in full view of him seeing you. Hanging up abruptly flashed through as an option but it made no sense now you were caught.

You shuffle some papers as he takes out his AirPods and comes closer to the camera. “That is you!”

You look up in feigned surprise, coughing up your previous bite of sandwich. “Oh, Mr. Rhodes! Did Nemour forget to sign off. Oh well, I was just going to-”

“Nemour!” Trevante yells out. The soft patter of feet become louder. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Your teacher is waiting on you, whatchu doin?”

“No no! I wasn’t waiting!” You say fervently.

Nemour peeks over his dad’s arm. “Hi Ms (Y/N). Did you need me?”

You smile disingenuously. “No, I was just about to sign off. Just don’t forget that project, ok?”

“Yes ma’am.” He runs out the room as his dad calls out.

“Talk to me about this project when I’m done talking to your teacher!” Trevante takes a seat, looking pleased with the predicament. You are mortified, sitting your your head in your hands.

“So…how you been? You look well.” Trevante says with an enthused smile.

You look to him and return a tight one. “Thanks. I can’t say I’ve done much of anything but good to know I don’t look worse since our last talk.”

Trevante leans forward with his chin in his hand and you try not to imagine sinking your teeth into it. “Please, you’re blessed to not need much. Natural beauty.”

You take in the compliment with an inhale. “Sure, thanks,” you say, noticing a spot of jelly landed on your chest, probably after that last bite. You rub you chest to get the tiny stain out.

“Wow, that looks damn good,” Trevante says when you’re done.

You hold a hand to your chest, gasping in outrage. “Mr. Rhodes! I really don’t take kindly to forward comments referring to my body!”

Trevante purses his lips together, resting his chin on his fist. “I…meant that sandwich. I can see it below there.”

Your mouth hangs open staring from the sandwich to the meal in front of you. “I am…so sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, how was your date?” he asks quickly with a forgiving look. 

You think of his question with confusion before you realize that you had brought up meeting someone on Valentines Day after the meeting with him last time. 

“You remember that?” You ask, slightly impressed.

He nods. “Of course. I’m that kind of person, receptive to information and it sticks. That’s why Nemour so good at school, gets it from Daddy.”

“Good to know. But the date didn’t go as well as I hoped it would…”

Trevante cocks his head to the side inquisitive. “Huh. Where’d y’all go?”

You roll your eyes automatically. “He told me to meet him up at this mom and pop diner, which I’m not stuck up! If the food is good, I’m practically down for anything!”

“Ok, ok, so what was the problem?”

“He knew the family that owned the place, so his meal was free. We ordered like a late night breakfast thing and it wasn’t good. My food was both bland and overseasoned and the eggs I asked for were runny when I wanted a hard scramble.”

“Oh no,” he shakes his head.

“And in the end, even though his meal was paid, I had to pay for mine because he’s ‘in between things right now’. Then I had to give him a ride home and he offered his bed to me since his mama was asleep on some Xanax.”

Trevante rears his head back covering his mouth with his fist during his hoot-and-holler. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but that was pretty damn bad.”

You laugh graciously. “I know, but he was cute and I swear he seemed to have more potential than most other guys on the apps so maybe it was just a bad day?”

“You are giving these playas too much credit! And apps? Shoot, you could pull any ole dude off the street on a Tuesday just taking out the trash.”

“Mr. Rhodes-”

“Trevante works. Sometime Tre, sometimes Te but hold the Mr. Rhodes for me, please.”

“Fine, but only on here, I can’t call parents by their first names in public, it’s just too formal for me.” 

Trevante gets a sneaky grin on his face, scratching his beard stealthily. “So, you want to talk to me on here more often?”

Your jaw drops, aghast. “Mr… Trevante, I never said that. You’re always putting words in my mouth.”

He shrugs. “I’m sorry. It’s just so pretty, I can’t help but wanna hear it say things I wanna hear.”

You twist in your chair, barely composing yourself with his sly talk. “Wow! You never quit!”

“I will when you do!” 

You face each other in a standoff over each other’s screen. He was slowly tearing down your walls as much as you tried to reinforce them with professionalism.

“Ok,” you say.

“What’s ok?” 

You sit forward, building up the nerve. “IF we were to discuss things outside of schoolwork and your son, how would that go?”

Trevante rubs his hands together. “Well, first-”

You put a finger up. “Remember that I have a busy schedule with assignments and we are in quarantine so no way we could be in the same room or eat out.”

Trevante looks off into space, thinking. “Ok, so when do you usually turn down for the night?”

“For bed? Probably ten if I am lucky.”

He nods, rubbing his chin philosophically. “What are you having for dinner?”

“…probably this pasta thing I picked up at the store…” you say reluctantly.

Trevante claps his hands together. “That’s it! Ok, I gotta go but let’s talk later, aight?”

Before you could question him further, he hangs up the video call. You sat there pondering what just happened. Trevante is pretty straightforward with you but that ended on an unusual note. And then you began to think back to his smile and body and laugh and compliments, making your head curl toward your lap with giddiness. 

“God he is so fine.”

Later that evening you are laid across your couch in full snuggy mode: bonnet on, pimple cream where needed, tshirt and titties freeballing. You set your reheated pasta meal down to cool and look through your emails one more time before calling it a night. You have more than one concerned parent who will message you at ungodly hours about why Timmy and Jane aren’t getting an A+ average and their stress allows you to sleep peacefully as you’re reminded how unbothered you are since students make the grades, not you.

As usual, there is one new unread message to check out and of all people it is Nemour’s dad. No subject line, but the body of the email asking you to log on to video call him.

This was sent almost an hour ago, so you feel pretty secure that he is not on and let your curiosity lead you to the app.

Not long after, you get an invitation from Trevante.

“Hey!” he says, smiling wide (this time with a shirt on) after you accept. You begin to smile back but catch a glimpse of you in video and feel instant regret.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, slurping some spaghetti up.

“I forgot what I looked like, I should’ve waited to talk in the morning,” you say apologetically.

Trevante waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about all that. You getting ready to wind down, right?”

You pick up your dinner and show him on camera. “Pasta and all.”

“Great, so the date is on! How was your day since we last spoke?” he asks, slurping more spaghetti and taking a bite out of some garlic bread.

You scoff, poking at your penne. “So this is why you didn’t answer me? This is your plan for a date?”

He holds his hands out humbly. “A brotha gotta try. You so busy and remember we are in a quarantine so I can’t have you coming here with those beautiful germs of yours.”

“Wow, sure ok. Throw it back at me. Got it.”

You take a bite of your pasta as ladylike as possible, giving a rundown of your day which wasn’t much to take note of as Trevante noisily slurps his spaghetti making you laugh.

“What’s up?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

“I…well your meal looks better than mine. At least you make it look better.”

He licks his lips before smiling, lighting your spirit as you smirk into your food.

“What can I say, I get down in the kitchen when I can. I wasn’t bout to heat up some frozen mess and call that a meal, you know? I gotta eat real food!”

You drop your fork. “Ok, Mr. Anita Baker! I know when I’ve been disrespected!”

Trevante gets nervous having offended you. “Wait wait! My bad, ok?”

You point at him with all authority. “My food is my business.”

“No problem, I’ll hold back, but not too much on Anita. And maybe I’ll order you some DoorDash or something next time.”

“If,” you warn.

Trevante gives you a playful face. “If not, I’ll just tell Nemour to quit doing his homework and we can conference about it.”

“Oh bye, he’s too smart for that!”

Trevante laughs. “You probably right. Look, I don’t mean to push, but I’m glad you made time to see me here tonight.”

His eyes look at you genuinely pleased and you feel that familiar giddiness creeping up. 

“I’m glad you invited me. Just this little bit is better than my last date, so points to you.”

Trevante stares at you contently. “You know if we were outside, this is when we’d kiss.”

You look up to the ceiling. “Here you go!”

“I felt the moment! Don’t lie!”

You look at him defiantly. “Too bad we won’t know until that time comes.”

He wags a finger at you. “See? You keep thinking these are conversation ending phrases, but you baiting me. So there’s a next time ahead of us! Hit me up for a Netflix Party and Chill.”

“Good night, Te,” you say exasperatedly.

“Have a good day at school tomorrow.”

You hang up first and sail backward, laying across your couch feeling like you ran a marathon. This could all still be forgotten. You aren’t too deep to deny him. He called this a date but come on, did it count? You sit up to poke at the remnants of your meal and think about his lips slurping up the spaghetti hungrily. And the kiss that would have sent you to bed happily. 


	3. Chapter 3

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree. School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could. In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better. Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now. Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only. The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way. It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude. 

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer. Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom. As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing. Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

_**Email 1** _

_“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour. While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5. But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6. Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”_

_**Your response:** _

_“Dear Mr. Rhodes, Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”_

_“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher! So…how’ve you been?”_

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel. But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what? He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?! So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?” Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself. “That’s the thing about American government. They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn! That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,” he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly! That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn. There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on. Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know. Just…when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?” he offers.

You nod a little. “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. History is literally set in stone. If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?” you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle. You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What? What’s that about?” you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping. 

Trevante tuts at you. “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you. You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful. I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs. “Summer don’t count (y/n). You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him. The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?” he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms. “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too. What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie. “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend. Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home. Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that. The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons. And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods. “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement. “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year. That’s decided at random. Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there. If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination. “Dang, Tre! Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me! He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck. “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there. I will make all the, what you call it? Ruckus? That shit! So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness. His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar. “Ok, I’ll hold you to it. How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms. “He is doing well, being a regular kid. Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod. “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do? Should we run away? Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm. “It’s part my fault. I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it. I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street. And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do? You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this. “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about. I give him the basics though: Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called on you either. But it sounds played out to even say. What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing. Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging. Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond. “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age. That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now. We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile. “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too. “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’ I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.” You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand. 

“Oh shit! So this is Turnt Teacher! Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off. “You aren’t stopping anything. If nothing else, you keeping me going. All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too. You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine. “Are we still doing a movie tonight? I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch. “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation. Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen. Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him. In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but…you know this…pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“…awful, right? So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that…now?”

Trevante thinks for a second. “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right? Six feet, masks, no crowded space. If you want, we can do that. I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “…I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had. And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Do you wanna go out with me? Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See? You even call me Tre now. We familiar right? I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…” you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you. If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do? No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,” you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me. He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement. A plan to go out, with a man no less! This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it. You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this. You wanna see me, I wanna see you. We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you. “Ok, I’m in. Pick the time and place.”


End file.
